


A Dream in Bed

by sbazzing



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Porn with Feelings, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 16:18:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17103917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbazzing/pseuds/sbazzing
Summary: Andrew likes everything about Neil in his bed.





	A Dream in Bed

**Author's Note:**

> hello, ao3! this is sbazzing from tumblr. thanks for taking the time to check out this little fic, my first try at writing andreil. it's a lot of andrew being sappily in love with neil while trying to avoid the fact, one of my favourite tropes. hope you enjoy it! cheers x

Andrew likes everything about Neil in his bed.  
  
This is a truth not entirely known even to Neil, because Andrew still has a thing about control - and to tell Neil everything about him that drives Andrew crazy is a little too much like giving Neil all the rope he'd need to hang Andrew. No matter whether Neil would or wouldn't do that (he wouldn't). But while the knowledge remains Andrew's alone, it's safe, and it's something he allows himself to indulge in every time Neil visits. Because that doesn't often happen.  
  
It isn't surprising that professional schedules are more grueling than university ones. But there's the added distance between them now to deal with, uncharacteristic and strange. For two years, they've been used to being an arm's reach away from each other most of the time. Now, the closest they come to sleeping together in any way is over Skype, when one of them dozes off onto his keyboard (Neil) or gets caught up in the tease of a shirt that has ridden up, the trail of conversation that starts neutral but ends up husky and suggestive (either of them). They make do, knowing that they have limited options for a while as Neil breaks into the scene with a smaller team before figuring out transfer possibilities. But it's barely enough.  
  
So. When Andrew has Neil with him, he indulges.

 

1\. Neil sleeps easier these days. Slight shifts of the bed or the floorboards rarely yank him awake anymore, and even when they do, he goes out again in a few minutes. Andrew appreciates it - the quiet that is all calm and no anxiety. The feeling of Neil's warm, pliant body tucked firmly against the curve of his own. When Andrew wakes, restless, from his own sleep, it’s enough to settle him back down almost immediately.

With little time and deliberation, Andrew identifies what it is. What it always is, with them: trust. The gentle back turned towards him reminds Andrew over and over that Neil is there, always willing and eager to accept his care. It reminds Andrew that he is capable of giving it. And that is... overwhelming sometimes. So much so that he'll leave the bed, needing space and nicotine to quiet the rush of feeling. But he always comes back, and Neil is always waiting for him.  
  
Tonight, Andrew has been prodded out of sleep by the leftover chill from evening rain and the stirring of Neil seeking to get comfortable. The room is deep grey in the night and taken up by black blurs. Outside, streetlights blink as drowsily as Andrew does.  
  
Annoyance appears, but is only momentary. Andrew has had an arm around Neil's waist from the start of the night, but he lets himself feel the ridiculous, gentle jump of his stomach when Neil tries to pull it closer and tighter around him. As if Andrew were a human blanket to be pulled and shaped as Neil wishes. The thought lacks any bite, though - Andrew doesn't resist. He lets his arm get handled into a more snug position against Neil's torso, noticing how careful Neil is even in sleep, years of fear-shaped stillness and rigidity still present, but becoming progressively softened with time and intimacy of the right kind. Neil's scars press against Andrew's arm through two layers of cloth, and it's a strong, grounding, and familiar reminder in the gentle moment. Face visible or not, this is Neil with him.  
  
Neil stops moving after a few seconds. Andrew, hand now resting close to Neil’s heart, waits for his breathing to even out again before tightening his hold.  
  
It’s not always perfect, it never will be, but Andrew sleeps easier these days too.

 

2\. Neil, wicked and spiked, honed from years of running, cutting and hiding, knows many, many things - some less friendly for small talk than others. He knows how to pull on the sympathies of old women with a hand simultaneously slipping their purses out of their handbags. He knows exactly what to do and who to go to in any city or town to get a faultless fake anything - license, ID, passport. He knows what to use, where to strike and how to come up with explanations to take down a man twice his size.  
  
If anyone ever thinks Neil is clueless, it's because they only know the typical problems of everyday life. Those people would die a painful death attempting any one thing Neil knows like second nature from his life on the run. But it is true that sometimes Neil fumbles with basic acts of politeness or courtesy, friendship like a new skin he’s still getting used to. His frown is genuinely confused when someone makes an everyday cultural joke that slips right over his head.  
  
Where he lacks in experience, however, he usually makes up for in enthusiasm. Another thing Andrew likes about Neil in his bed.  
  
Andrew knows well by now that almost everything Neil knows about sex has been learned from their shared experiences. Everything honest and real, at least. All the sex ed Neil had ever received before came from glimpses of crappy movie scenes through alley windows, and his own body making itself known under hands that had been taught more about hurting other people than taking care of himself.  
  
Barring the hatred that always surges with reminders of Mary Wesninski and how she imposed this on Neil, Andrew vaguely likes the idea that he is the first, and only, one to let Neil feel these things. Neil's body is a record of every painful fight he’s survived, a graveyard where all his stories went to die. But when Andrew touches him, he is the most alive he ever is anywhere but an Exy court.  
  
‘Drew,’ Neil gasps wetly, one hand crumpling half the bed sheet into a ball by his side and the other caught up in Andrew's hair. His thighs are pressing convulsively against Andrew's head in a jerking rhythm Andrew isn't going to stop. He's more focused on the task at hand, and the way it's drawing Neil's tells to the surface just a few minutes into this - his eyes are fluttering closed and his cheeks are pink with a gorgeous flush that goes almost all the way down.  
  
Andrew pulls off him for a moment to tug at the skin of Neil's inner thigh with his teeth, savouring Neil's little moan of appreciation. For a long minute, he stays there, paying careful attention to the area with tongue and teeth, knowing Neil will get more and more worked up the longer Andrew neglects to touch him the way he really needs at the moment. He's right. The little shuddering breaths turn to gentle moans, which then give way to longer whines - stretched out and tempting Andrew close again. Andrew digs his fingers into Neil's hips in warning.  
  
‘Be quiet,’ he says, punctuating the order with another nip to the skin around the already-forming bruise. Neil's hips jerk - Andrew presses him back down. ‘The neighbours will hear you.’  
  
‘Good thing they’re not mine yet,’ Neil quips, a smart-ass even through the haze of desire. But it's that, the little _yet_ he tags on that has Andrew looking at him, only to find he's already being looked at. Neil bites his lip and smiles with one side of his mouth. ‘Think they’ll forget about it by the time I move in?’

‘You’re assuming I won’t kill you before then.’ It’s not a dismissal.

‘Well, a man should plan for all possibilities.’ It’s a _yes._  
  
The split second longer than necessary that Andrew holds eye contact with Neil is his silent agreement, and he guesses it is partially this that makes Neil release a small sigh of satisfaction. Well, that and the fact that Andrew has slid down on him again, overwhelmed and suddenly desperate to bring Neil to the orgasm he's been working towards.  
  
It's noisy because it's Neil, but Andrew likes it. Likes the way Neil sounds almost surprised by how good it feels, even after all this time, the way he pushes his hips up against Andrew's face like he can't help it. Andrew likes it when Neil willingly gives up control to him. It's power, but more the satisfaction of knowing he's used it to give someone else something good.  
  
He's distantly aware of angry knocking against one of the bedroom walls at the noise, but Andrew can't be bothered. Neil almost yells Andrew's name when he reaches the height of his pleasure, then slowly, slowly begins relaxing back into the mattress through his come-down, looking utterly wrecked. Andrew takes a moment to appreciate the sight, breathing unsteady as he takes in Neil's slightly glazed eyes (the darkest shade of blue it ever gets), and the sweat slicking his neck and stomach. Then he cleans him off with one of their shirts - he isn't sure whose it is - before throwing it off the bed and crawling up Neil's body to settle a kiss into his slack mouth.  
  
‘Which neighbour was that?’ Neil asks blearily, once Andrew has pulled away. So he heard.  
  
‘Doesn't matter,’ Andrew says, meaning it. Neil accepts this silently and kisses Andrew through his own release with a smile all over his lips.

 

3\. Sunlight always looks softer against the harsh scars that hug Neil's skin, by contrast but probably also by Andrew's rose-tinted view of the world whenever Neil is in his immediate line of sight.

Eyes still fuzzy with sleep, it’s the first thing Andrew sees upon waking: Neil's bare stomach, ridged scars overlaying solid but relaxed muscle, bathed in the diffuse light from the curtained window opposite Andrew’s bed. The scars are so far raised in some places that they cast vague shadows onto the skin by them, creating a whole world of hills and valleys right there on Neil’s belly. Andrew takes a slow, smug satisfaction from the sight of the marks he left along them last night, remembering how pleased Neil had sounded. The thought makes his eyes drift, in search of that infamous mouth.  
  
He has to look up a bit to do it - Neil is leaned upright against the headboard, eyes low and focused as he thumbs through what looks like practice notes. (Neil is the only person Andrew knows apart from Kevin who takes notes on his performance every day, as if his coach would demand to see it the next practice.) His tongue is poking out between his lips with concentration, and his hair is a mess. _Pretty,_ Andrew thinks, ridiculous.  
  
Andrew shifts, barely, and Neil catches his eye. He softens up immediately, but Andrew can't quite muster the usual need to strangle him.  
  
‘Hey,’ Neil says, rich and warm like the stupid morning.  
  
Andrew blinks slowly at him. Neil smiles and takes it for the reply it is.  
  
‘What do you want to do today?’ Neil puts his notes down when Andrew’s hand reaches out to smooth over his stomach, firm and exploratory, even though he’s covered this particular terrain more times than he can count now. ‘Breakfast? Allison sent me links to some restaurants around here.’ Because he knows Andrew wouldn’t bother looking for nice places on his own.  
  
‘No,’ Andrew pushes out, still half-asleep. Neil nods to that without argument, then hovers a hand over Andrew’s head.  
  
‘Yes?’ he asks. At Andrew’s quiet agreement, he places his hand there, curling his fingers leisurely in the tangles. ‘Okay, then. What about the beach? We can go in the afternoon. Have breakfast in first.’  
  
Andrew mumbles, ‘No.’  
  
Neil tilts his head to catch Andrew’s gaze again, which had slid away into space for a bit. His expression is mild and amused. 'Guess that means we're staying in, then?'  
  
Andrew taps two fingers against Neil's waist in reply, a confirmation.  
  
Neil doesn’t look upset by this, not a bit. He’s not Nicky, crestfallen when the tiniest plans fall through, or one of the upperclassmen, suspicious or concerned that the rejection signifies something that runs deeper and darker. Neil is simple. Andrew likes simple. And nothing in the world is as simple and easy as Neil in his bed right this moment, looking at Andrew without pressure, just observing. A passerby in Andrew’s timeline who somehow fit himself somewhere behind Andrew’s eyes, so Andrew sees him all the time even when he’s not there. Neil is a weight around his shoulders, but he’s not the kind that pulls him underwater - he’s the kind that settles him into the sand, where before he was drifting.  
  
‘Staring,’ Neil hums, pleased. Andrew pinches him in his far side where Andrew's hand has stopped moving, but it’s counterproductive, really, because it makes Neil jerk closer to Andrew rather than away, and that feels like inviting trouble. The adrenaline of it spikes Andrew’s nerves, so he’s significantly more awake. He feels a kiss brush over his hair, then his forehead, hears the shuffle of papers as Neil puts his notes away somewhere. Then miles of sun-washed skin slips under his arm until Neil is lying down in front of him, on his side so he can kiss the corners of Andrew’s eyes, his nose. His hands are supporting Andrew’s jaw in a way that Andrew can’t resist nuzzling into, and Neil makes a tiny pleased noise.  
  
‘Can I kiss you?’  
  
‘You have been kissing me.’  
  
‘Here,’ Neil clarifies unnecessarily, index finger pushing at Andrew’s lower lip. Andrew moves his face away from the touch, but then gets Neil’s chin in his hand and leans into him. Irresistible. Neil closes his eyes immediately.  
  
Yes, he likes this. He likes Neil soft and generous under his hands, in his mouth, smoothed by the sheets and Andrew’s careful attention. He likes everything, everything, about Neil in his bed. And he won’t say these things to Neil outright, probably ever, but he knows Neil knows. He can tell by the satisfied smile curving against the underside of his jaw, cheeky, but grateful. And that is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos, comments & everything else is appreciated! come visit me on tumblr, @sbazzing.


End file.
